Something magical happened at the Art Space during our opening last Friday night.......

Acclaimed professional writer, Janet Brown was invited to say a few words inspired by our exhibition, this is what she wrote and performed to an amazed and appreciative audience........please enjoy x

A Fairy Tale for Grown ups - Peacock TangoYou know that saying - nothing good happens after 2am? It’s time to go home? Last night at 2.17am to be precise, something good, something special, something kinda weird was happening here, on the Great Ocean Road. Here in Anglesea. Here at the Artspace. The moon, slung low and full was hovering above the Anglesea River. Reflected in the gentle waves. And those images bounced to the wet road and the broad windows of the gallery. Reflections of reflections of reflections. Exponential dimensions. The darkness of the gallery transformed into a silvery brightness, and, with the haunting sounds of Paul McCartney - Cinnamon had been playing the Beatles during the afternoon - he was still echoing from the walls… strains of a song about a bird, a song about waiting, a song about arising.

​As though prompted, on cue, the ringmaster, Sitting Pretty, his elegant plumage shining in the lime-light of the moonglow, orchestrated the dance.She’d been watching him for days, that woman there, on the barstool. All her cheeky cheeks, her white curves brazenly displayed. She’s a show off, that one. And so is he. A meeting of the minds? More than that.

​He moves to her, such grace, introduces himself… and his intent... with a long, slow stroke of a single feather from her neck down to her toes. She remains still, refuses to move for the Moon In Peacock, but she raises one eyebrow, tilts her chin and she says ‘Shall we dance?’The peacock, his plumage steel and gold all a-rustle, unfurls his grand curtain of feathered shiny colour – delicious turquoise, orange, gold: she’s just the type of woman he wants. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ An irresistible twinkle in his blue eyes. He takes her hand. The master.

​The beautiful Vancouver birds have travelled so far in Anticipation of a mysterious adventure Downunder. From their Vantage Point they see this moment – it’s just a moment – a kind of stretched out moment, but not a minute, not something you can time, not with a watch - they chirp and whisper – ‘Such goings on in this place. Don’t see that in Vancouver!’ The little innocents are agog, if birds can be agog.

​Mr Cool, over near the corner, he knows exactly what’s going to happen. Snappy dresser – all full of himself in his best white suit, red hat, red tie and if he gets a chance, he’ll join in. But for the moment, he’s watching, taking it all in, pretending disdain.Woman says ‘Cheek to cheek?’Peacock croons ‘Tango’.She says ‘Tango? A bird who can tango?’He says ‘I’ll lead.’She smiles.It’s On.And they dance. They dance that dance where there’s no past and no future. That dance where there’s only the moment.

The elegant, mysterious, blue cloaked woman with her beautiful black face so inscrutable - Bird Bowl Harvest - shimmies ever so slightly, irresistibly imitating them, her head bowl swaying in rhythm. Some of her face-framing blooms gently release their petals and they spill to the silver blue floor, cast like confetti for the dancers. The swan and the spoonbill keep a respectful distance. Such antics are foreign to them. But they exchange a frisson of delight with the masqueraded creatures and a familiar nod to those ‘others’ all dressed up in their fancy finery and their curly, bird accessorised head dresses: it IS a special occasion.The tango can be different things to different peop… ‘beings’, but at its heart it’s a language of embrace. It’s about desire and these two, these two….

​They move as one. She absorbs him. They become each other. Everyone sees it happen. He whispers to the shell of her ear ‘I have something for you, my love.’ Taking liberties.She says ‘Something else?’He says, ’Yes, a ring, a token of my affection.’She pats his handsome head ‘An owl and a pussy cat and a runcible spoon: can you possibly improve on that?’

As he kisses her hand, slips the ring onto her finger - silver shiny, shiny.He sings as only a peacock can sing at 2.17am ‘It’s cast from a found seagull’s thigh bone. One who once danced on the wind.’She gasps – ‘Oh!’ - and says to the shiny ring, “I’d so love to have wings. Imagine, flying.’ They nestle closer, they envelop, they adore, they consume each other. Then, the light changes, everything now different. The moment of Mesmer has passed. With a shiver of his arc of eyed plumes, he reluctantly retreats from her curves and returns to his wheel of fortune. Still.

​She, quite rapturously adorns a new canvas, changed, all plumaged legs with iridescent eyes and… satisfied.Everything, everyone, now still.And in the air there lingers, I’m sure it lingers…listen…Something about a special moment. Something about being free.

Janet Brown, 18 August 2017

Special thanks to Janet for this incredibly magical experience for all those who were at the opening. For those who couldn't be there, I hope you enjoyed this blog xxxxThe Birds and Blooms exhibition continues until August 30th, open daily 11am - 4pm.Cheers Cinnamon